


Brewing Storm

by Ladibard_Wordsmith28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Veela Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladibard_Wordsmith28/pseuds/Ladibard_Wordsmith28
Summary: " I am a blood-sucking veela and you are my mated witch."- Draco Malfoy said into Hermione Granger's ears, making a well-hidden secret, a blood curse turn as real as the Sun and Moon.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	Brewing Storm

_Disclaimer_ : I only own AU and OCs, the rest are JKR's babies. My niece had introduced me to Dramione, I still can't stop thanking her. Dramione, the pairing makes me think of endless possibilities, and I simply enjoy these bubbling thoughts. So here is one of them, hope, you all like reading it.

* * *

**Brewing Storm**

She ran hard and fast till her legs throbs and her heart ached. It was not a usual sight. She made several people around her call her name. But Hermione Granger responded to none. Dashing through the corridors, she yelled out the head's dorm password and stumbling inside. Taking two steps at a time, kicking the bathroom door open, she started pulling at her clothes. A spell could patch those torn pieces together. Now, now she needed to cool down. With a flick of her wrist, the faucets turned and the small enclosure started growing misty.

Leaping under the cold water she let out a hiss and then a low howl. Everywhere it was burning on. Every nerve has on fire. Her magic sizzled around her and the air crackled threatening to explode the whole place. She tried chanting the periodic table, she tried recalling the steps of making the most difficult potions, but nothing seemed to work this time. What was she supposed to do! She had tried talking to Madam Pomphrey, but the mediwitch had tucked a set of dreamless draughts in her palm and just said,' The War has its consequence. Try to live through it, Miss Granger. Time in such cases is the best healer."

But she told her again and again, rather pleaded with her to just look through her journal entries. She had documented every bit of these new realizations. The heightened sense of smell. She could smell the rains in the morning itself, though it would not rain until late in the afternoon. She could guess what someone would say in the next couple of minutes. And She was not a Bloody Seer!

Yes, she was right all along she was not a seer, because everything, her heartened senses of smell, touch, and hearing. Her sudden bouts of foresightedness were in a way anchored to him. Ever since she had fled from the Malfoy Manor, she had been hearing thoughts, depressing and suicidal at things. But those thoughts definitely belonged to someone else. And it was not until getting miraculously locked in the potion storeroom, that she finally realized, it was Draco Lucius Malfoy's voice she had bee hearing feeling and yearning for.

They were restocking the shelves together. It was a relief the bully chose quietness over brandishing his bruised ego in public. Stripped of titles and wealthy the surviving Malfoy had to admit his lunatic mother in the Spell Damage Ward of 's and resolutely did not make an appearance at his father's funeral. The Daily Prophet had run the headlines in bold black letters," Let the coward rot in his muddy grave, I am not his son."

It was by accident, she missed her footing on the ladder. But before she could land on the ground, overthrowing the entire shelf of potions and glass bottles on her, Malfoy had come to her rescue. Wedging his body in between, he managed to steady the shelf, and with both hands, he achieved the impossible. His seeker reflexes had grabbed at Hermione's sleeves and it was only natural for him to pull her towards himself. As their warm bodies collided against each other, several glass jars clanged against each other but stayed upright, Hermione gasped. Draco Malfoy's whispers," I got you, I got you." That Voice! That bloody voice had kept her awake for nights, words of prayer, and encouragement had soothed her worries. That voice belonged to this ferret!

She had kicked him off and slapped him tightly. Wheeling towards the door, she tried to grab the knob. But it banged shut and Malfoy's voice once again pleaded with her," Please, wait, I can explain! Listen to me." She stood there shuddering with frustration, annoyance, and uncontrolled anxiety. He tried again," I had to, or else you would have died, my aunt had nearly killed you, I couldn't watch you die. I had to Hermione."

Her name on his lips sounded like a melody being played through the turning of time itself. As if for centuries together, a piano in a forgotten mansion was playing itself a sad tune of longing and unrecruited love, with only the worn-out dusty stool as its audience.

She could only ask a single word," How?"

Encouraged by the fact that at least she was not hexing him or killing him already, he burst out happily," Well, I called Dobby and while he managed to distract the others, I grabbed your unconscious body and disillusioned both of us. While Potter and Weasley kept trading curses with the death eaters. Right there in under everybody's nose, I…" realizing his folly, he shut himself up abruptly, thinking how exactly was he going to explain it to her. She was a Muggle-born witch. And even the old wizards' families were unaware of the Malfoy bloodline curse. Slapping his forehead ignoring the burning cheek, he cursed under his breath.

Her chilled voice broke in," What did you do to me, Draco Malfoy?"

Gaping at her taut back with wide eyes, he let his voice take over, "I bit your shoulder and claimed you as mine. You were far gone, Hermione, you wouldn't have survived an apparition. You would have died and we would have lost the war. Don't you see, you alone carried much of the onus of the victory…" Another tight slap made him see the stars. He heard her scream "Alohamora" and the door tore off its hinges sending splinters all over him. She was gone the very next second.

Picking himself up from the floor, dusting those wooden chips, he had staggered a couple of steps. Now that she knew it was him all along, it would become easier for him to look for her. Since that moment, he had carried this secret close to his heart, although his mother had a hunch. Granger's heartbeat was like that of a harp played by invisible fingers in the depths of a forest. The music rolled over the dry leaves, collected the dew and moisture from the damp barks of age-old trees, brushed against several forest animals, and finally greeted his heart like a long-lost friend.

The school would be buzzing with a new gossip by dinner because now they saw the Head Boy dash up the rotating stairs and bark the password to the perfect's dorm. He didn't care if they both were going to be summoned by the Headmaster later in the evening. Severus Snape had survived the war, thanks to his timely self-ingestion of the antivenom. His voice had dipped a couple of notches down, making him more dangerous to sound. Draco could always explain his godfather this strange case at hand. But right now, he needed her as much as she needed him. It was the heat. The unquenching desire to be with one's own mate. If they rush it, they would unleash magical energies strong enough to bring down a section of the school. He had to make her understand, he had to make her acknowledge this wielding of the soul. She must accept him at any cost.

Pushing the door of the bathroom room, he stood still. Surround by flumes and among the mist she stood under the shower, glowing like a star. As soon as her cries reached him, he was pulling off his boots and tearing off his school robes. In no time, he rushed up to her and joined her under the shower. There was no room for second thoughts. Bending down, he captured her parted lips, till he nipped her tongue and forced her to bite him in turn. Their blood mingled. As the mirror cracked and finally crashed, littering the wet floor with hundreds of shards.

Perhaps it took a lifetime to make those urges subside. When he finally opened his eyes and blinked those raining droplets away, he saw her befuddled face, still held secured within his palms. Only her lips were smeared with their blood. And they were sitting inside the tub, one over the other, they core nestled against each other, throbbing but satisfied.

She shifted on his bare lap, making him wince at the sudden burst of excitement, but they could take it slow, there was no longer a need to rush this whole thing. Her fingers twitched against his bare chest. His witch had dug her nails deep enough to make his bleed. Ten little crescents would make him as hers for now on. He smiled back ruefully.

She blinked at him, and he took pity. He murmured huskily," I am a blood-sucking veela and you are my mated witch." Feeling dizzy, she leaned into his waiting arms and licked her lips, tasting a sweet, tangy and salty mixture of this new blood. Her tongue had brushed over his pulse throbbing steadily along his throat and his sucked in the damp air, letting a moan escape and roll over the white tiles. Her words before she dozed off, feeling tired all of a sudden, had made his heart leap. "Your voice, it was your voice all this while. Thank you, for not letting me die."


End file.
